


Inked

by Alexicon, AllumetteRouge (RedRaidingHood)



Series: JayTim Week 2016 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Fluff, JayTim Week, JayTim Week 2016, M/M, Misunderstanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7648234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexicon/pseuds/Alexicon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRaidingHood/pseuds/AllumetteRouge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason wakes up with a hangover and some new decorations.</p><p>(Prompt 1: Tattoo)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inked

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Alexicon and pictures drawn by AllumetteRouge!
> 
> The art post can be found [here](https://allumetterouge.tumblr.com/post/148297372252/what-can-i-say-it-was-an-experience-and-i-so).
> 
> For Day 1 of Jaytim Week: Tattoo

Jason woke up on his sofa feeling confused and more than a little hungover, and he didn’t remember why until he trudged into the bathroom and saw his face in the mirror.

He’d gotten drunk last night, in his apartment where he could properly mope. Really drunk, the kind where he couldn’t remember anything that had happened after he’d opened the second bottle of whiskey and turned on his favorite soap opera. Unfortunately, the fact that he was currently wearing one shoe and his belt probably meant that he’d stopped watching his soaps at some point and gone out somewhere. Jason dreaded finding out where he’d gone.

He had an impeccable sense for when he’d done something stupid, and right now that sense was going off like a fucking fire alarm.

Jason stripped his shirt off and leaned his head against the chilly bathroom door to see if that helped with his headache. It didn’t, but it _did_ help with the aching pains all over his skin.

He turned to head for the shower, and that was when he saw something in the mirror he didn’t expect. There was a mark on his lower back, black and clear as day despite the twisting he had to do to read it.

It said ‘Tim’.

Of course it did.

Jason’s crush had lasted for a while by this point; almost nine months now, since that day he’d taken a good look at Tim not-so-discreetly trying to reach his brush that had ended up on top of the refrigerator and recognized what the fondness he felt meant. Tim didn’t know, neither about Jason’s giant crush, nor that Jason had been the one to put the brush up there. Jason wasn’t likely to enlighten Tim as to these facts anytime soon -- except that apparently his subconscious mind had decided that he had to express his crush _somehow_.

Personally, Jason would’ve preferred serenading Tim’s window over getting a _tattoo_ , but that was his sober mind speaking. He could’ve at least made a stupid excuse for the window-serenading. Tattoos were a little more permanent.

Jason couldn’t deal with this now. He had arranged to raid one of the crummier neighborhoods by Crime Alley today with Dick, in one of his ‘try to get along with the family without killing anyone’ plans. It was a work in progress, but it was going pretty well at the moment.

The raid went well, too; so well he didn’t think to hide his back when he changed afterwards into civilian clothes.

Which would’ve been fine if Dick hadn’t been changing right behind him.

Jason heard Dick snort, and turned around just in time to see a grin flit across the man’s face.

“That’s very artistic,” Dick said. Jason burned with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the stupid tattoo when worrying about it had consumed so much of his energy earlier.

“Shut up,” he replied.

“No, really, it’s lovely,” added Dick, living up to his namesake with obvious pleasure. “How did that happen?”

“I don’t know,” Jason said, trying to fight down his blush. “I was drunk. I didn’t _mean_ to get it.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, okay,” he said slowly, eyes narrowed. “Why do you think you got it?”

Jason lost the battle against his blush and hunched over himself, staring at the floor. His body language might’ve been a little too obvious, but he didn’t have the energy to just brush off Dick’s question right now.

“Tim’s, you know, an all right guy,” mumbled Jason. He hoped that the understatement would pass Dick by, if the mumbling hadn’t been enough to disguise his meaning.

Unfortunately, Dick still heard him, judging by the smirk on his face. And he could interpret Jason-speak like no one else. “All right,” Dick echoed, and tapped on Jason’s shoulder to get a better look. Jason turned obligingly and rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to pretend this wasn’t happening.

“It’s smearing,” Dick murmured, tone a little distracted.

Jason looked up at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Dick with a dazzling smile. “You should talk to Tim about this.”

“About what?” Jason asked. Dread constricted his throat. Dick couldn’t mean...

“It’d be kinda weird to have Tim’s name on your body without him knowing or finding out about it somehow.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Jason said, relieved. He’d thought Dick had meant Tim ought to know about Jason’s crush.

A glimmer of a wicked grin pulled at the corners of Dick’s mouth. “I’m sure he already knows and is just waiting for you to confront him,” Dick pointed out airily.

“That is _not comforting_ ,” said Jason. He tried not to whine; it didn’t work as well as he’d hoped.

It was probably true, though. Tim had a strange habit of knowing things, especially about Jason; sometimes even things Jason hadn’t known himself. Like when Tim had told him he should leave food out for the cat who sat on his windowsill and set off his alarms every now and then. Jason had been prepared to hunt down whoever was trying to get in through his window so often; he was a little embarrassed to find that it had been a cat. Jason still had no idea how Tim had known. He’d checked his whole apartment for bugs and cameras, and only found the Bat-bug basics he’d allowed to stay in the kitchen out of some kind of sentimental idiocy.

Jason didn’t know how Tim could’ve possibly found out about the tattoo he’d only discovered this morning, but he sure wouldn’t put it past him.

Jason went for it that night. He couldn’t risk someone else (Dick) telling Tim, and then Tim thinking that Jason keeping mum was a sign of something bigger going on. There was something, of course, but Jason didn’t want _Tim_ to know that.

Maybe his crush would go away. Jason didn’t think it would, but he could hope.

“I have something to tell you,” Jason said, and fumbled his entrance by slipping on the welcome mat just inside the door. “Why is this _here_? You’re in an apartment and this is not an inside mat.”

“It’s supposed to convince people to come in through the door instead of the window,” replied Tim, who was otherwise completely frozen on the sofa with his pen vertical and clutched in a white-knuckled grip. “It’s not ironic if no one can see it to be embarrassed.”

“That’s counterproductive, I’d come in the window just to avoid it.” Jason grimaced and shook his head a little. He was distracting himself, procrastinating so he wouldn’t have to talk about this. But he had to, or Tim would know he was hiding something; Jason didn’t come storming in his front door every day, after all.

“Not everyone’s like you, though,” Tim said hopefully. Jason snorted. If Tim was waiting for one of them not to be petty and annoying, he’d have a long time to wait. Tim stuck his tongue out in reply and lowered his pen to tap it against his leg. “So what’s up?”

Tim looked antsy, like he’d had double his usual coffee intake today, or maybe a dozen Red Bulls.

“How much caffeine did you have today?” Jason asked.

“Enough,” was Tim’s answer. “Get on with it,” he ordered, and his leg started jumping like a dog for popcorn.

Jason sighed, and made himself room on the other end of the sofa before sitting down. Tim snatched his legs out of the way just in time. Jason rubbed his hands together and avoided Tim’s eyes by staring down.

“I got a tattoo,” Jason told his hands. “Apparently. I was drunk, and I got a tattoo.”

“No, you didn’t,” Tim said, absolutely certain.

“I did,” Jason replied.

“Nope,” said Tim, and this time Jason heard the humor in his voice and looked up. Tim was obviously struggling not to smile, biting at his lips to keep one from spreading.

Jason sighed again and squeezed his eyes shut like it’d reset the whole world a few days by the time he opened them again. It didn’t. “Timbo, buddy, I think I’d know whether I got a tattoo or not.”

Tim snorted. “I don’t think so.” He shifted and dropped all his papers on the ground, laying his pen down incongruously delicately on top of the mess he’d just made.

And then Tim straddled his lap and grinned into Jason’s face.

Jason had only a second to think ‘ _what the fuck_ ’ before Tim had reached an arm around him and rubbed a few fingers across his lower back, right where the tattoo was. It didn’t hurt anymore, surprisingly; he’d never been interested in a tattoo, but he’d thought that they were supposed to hurt for a while after.

Tim then lifted his fingers up to show Jason, close enough that Jason could’ve licked them if he’d wanted to. The tips of Tim’s fingers were black, and it didn’t register why until he caught sight of Tim’s mischievous smile again.

“You little --” Jason sputtered, and sprang to his feet, forgetting that Tim was still sitting on him. Tim let himself fall on his ass, too busy cackling like one of the Shakespeare witches Jason’d seen when he went to see ‘the Scottish play’ a month ago.

“I can’t believe you thought it was real,” Tim gasped, clutching at his stomach. He looked _ridiculous_ , red-faced and gasping on the floor, and Jason couldn’t bring himself to be all that angry with him.

Well, maybe a little angry.

“You wrote your name on me? When _was_ this?”

“God, last night, Jason,” Tim got out. “You were so drunk. I have no idea why you came to my place, or when you left, but you passed out on -- well, right on my sofa for a while.”

Jason looked down at the sofa in question like it’d give him any answers. It didn’t. “I came over here last night?” he asked, fear constricting his throat and pitching his voice higher than usual. “What -- did I say anything?”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” said Tim. “There was something about Orange Crush and teddy bears, I think. Here, I actually got some Orange Crush, just in case you came over again.” He went to the kitchen and came out with a single bottle which he handed to Jason. It was extremely cold, or maybe Jason’s hands were a little overheated like the rest of him.

Jason had never had Orange Crush in his life; or if he had, it was not a memorable experience. Tim must have misheard something he said, and Jason could guess what kind of thing it was, with the word ‘crush’ in it. It was weirdly nice of Tim to get him this soda, though -- Tim always did little things like that, listened to things he vaguely mentioned and provided them whenever he could, like it was nothing. Jason twisted the cap and took a sip, staring at Tim’s welcome mat and thinking.

Tim stood up and brushed his hands down his holey t-shirt primly. Jason blinked up at him a few times and made a decision. He put the soda down and rose off the couch in one smooth heave.

“We’re standing up now?” said Tim. “Okay.” He startled slightly when Jason put a hand on his shoulder, but dismissed it with a roll of the eyes and quirked an eyebrow at Jason curiously.

“Tim,” Jason said, very seriously. “I hate Orange Crush.”

Tim’s face fell, expression confused and hurt.

Jason pointed to the bottle in emphasis and went on, “That is one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever put in my mouth -- and trust me, it’s got a _lot_ of competition -- but I wouldn’t’ve said anything about it except I wanna tell you what I _really_ said last night.”

By the time he stopped talking, Tim’s jaw had firmed up and his eyebrows were low. Jason closed his eyes and took a few steps backwards, just out of arm’s reach.

“Tim. I, uh, I have a crush on you.”

“No, you don’t,” Tim said, shaking his head and backing up. He leaned against the arm of the sofa, one arm slightly raised like he held his staff in his hand.

“Yeah, I do.” Jason huffed out a laugh, running a hand over the back of his head and trying to ignore the flush he felt burning across his face and neck.

“You _don’t_.”

“Okay, we’ve had this conversation already, but this time I _know_ I’m right, Timmy,” Jason told him, exasperated. “I don’t mean to sound all sappy and shit, but I fucking know how I feel, and I _like_ you, all right?”

Tim stepped toward Jason and swayed even closer, and for a moment Jason thought he’d have to run away or maybe call Alfred for advice. But then Tim took hold of Jason’s hand, his thumb pressing against the base of Jason’s palm, and squeezed until it was just on the edge of pain.

Jason watched Tim’s eyes dart over his face, breath caught in his chest. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. Whatever this was.

Tim drew in a hitching breath before he spoke. “Do you mean it?” he asked quietly.

If Jason hadn’t been so enraptured by the tense mood of the room, he would’ve said something along the lines of ‘ _duh, and-or hello_?’ As it was...

“Yes,” said Jason.

And Tim smiled like the rising sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to us on tumblr!
> 
>  
> 
> [Alexicon](http://lexiconallie.tumblr.com)  
> [AllumetteRouge](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> And [here's](http://lexiconallie.tumblr.com/post/148298280978/inked) the post!


End file.
